Beauty and the Dark Jedi
by Esteban T. Rodriguez
Summary: This is just my own version of a timeless classic, set in the Star Wars universe, please give it a try? Pretty please? New prologue up now, with some subtle changes. Rated for slight gore. Won't turn your stomach. Trust me.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_My name is Marcus Baromeer. I am… ha. I WAS a Jedi Knight under the Old Republic._

_Why the "was", you ask? Well, seeing as it is a long tale, I shall give you the condensed version. Hope you've got some time on your hands._

_My transition from a mere Padawan Learner to a full fledged knight was done under the tutelage of my old Master, known as Dooku. Naturally, he was a keen observer of my connection with the Force, which later contributed to my downfall, but that will be explained later. Master Dooku always gave me more credit for my actions than I thought was due, I only wish I had been wise enough to see what his true intentions were then._

_My mission was to a small planet in the Outer Rim called Caleb IV. I was assigned by the Jedi Council to expose a large criminal ring that had all but taken control of the planet. I completed my mission, only to find it was a very carefully laid trap. By a Sith Lord, no less. A kriffing Sith Lord, the archenemy of the Jedi, who had supposed to be extinct for a millennium. So you can imagine how I least suspected this. Nor did I expect the identity of the Sith, my old Master, Dooku, who had taken up his title as Count, but I will refer to him as Darth Tyranus, as he was later known to be. I put up a very good fight, my own Ataru style nearly defeating his own elegant, yet near obsolete Makashi style, but it was his use… no, abuse of the Force that allowed Tyranus to win. He inhibited my eyesight with a Dark presence, which gave me a sort of cataract. My original eye color changed slightly, but I could not see a lightsaber if it were coming down to slice off my head. _

_I was somewhat surprised Tyranus did not kill me right then and there, but instead, he brought me back to Coruscant, in front of the Jedi Council. He explained that my eyesight had gone because of my, ahem "feeble attempt to turn to the Dark Side". He made it seem, in all his charisma and influence that he had, that I had tried to learn the ways of the Sith, and therefore had to be cast out of the Jedi Order in disgrace. I tried to tell them all of Dooku's deceit, but none would listen to me, not even his new Padawan. My friend, Qui-Gon Jinn. _

_But just being an outcast was not enough for the Jedi Council. They took me out into the center of the temple and stood me in front of all the Jedi. And through the Force, they… altered me. It was not painful, but they all but severed my connection to the Force._ _Not only this, but not too long ago, a band of Gray Jedi had been discovered. Tyranus had me tied in with them, and they were also transfigured, not into beasts, but into strange household objects. Tyranus thought it fitting, for he said that I was planning to use them as such, to resurrect the Sith. (Please note this was an old Force ability, only known by Yoda himself. You wouldn't find Master Windu or Master Mundi using anything like this.)_ _I was now entrusted with a small, spheroid receptacle which contained the exact Force signature to change all of us back. It was love that was required to unlock it._

_Love. The one feeling the Sith would not be able to feel, and the Jedi lived on. Needless to say, we were banished from the boundaries of the Republic and onto one of the Outer Rim planets. Markos-Delta._

_We all retired to a large castle near the edge of a forest, a ways away from a small settlement. I became Master, for no one else was willing. As time waned on, a most peculiar thing began to happen. I was able to see somewhat, through the Force. Oh, damn! I forgot to mention, that we had all been severed from specific branches of the Force. We could perform rudimentary Force abilities, such as a grab, or a slightly higher leap, at best a small push. But the Force still flowed through me as I was able to see, somewhat. Not with my eyes, of course, but by the Force signature of everything around me. And the events that turned the galaxy upside down. I saw it all, I presume it made me into something of a hermit. But who was around to see me anyway? As I said, I saw all. The battle of Naboo, which revealed the Sith once more in the form of the Zabrak Darth Maul. The duel between him and my old friend Qui-Gon Jinn was a sight I had long since gone without. A fight. Adrenaline rushed through my veins with each swing of lightsaber or lightstaff. When Qui-Gon fell, and his Padawan rushed in and sliced Maul in half, I would not be able to sleep, for I was far too riveted by all this action that had taken place. But, in the process, Qui-Gon's dying wish to his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was to train someone who I cultivated a healthy dislike for; Anakin Skywalker. The "Chosen One" who would bring balance to the Force. He was bad enough a whiny little youngling, but as an arrogant Padawan who fell for the Senator from Naboo, Padmé Amidala. This was against the Jedi code and would eventually be his undoing. But that's another story. _

_The Clone Wars broke out from the Battle of Geonosis, the screams of each dying Jedi reverberating through my bones. But what I found most likable about the battle was that Kenobi, whom I've wished to meet so badly, revealed Tyranus as a Sith Lord as I tried to. I compliment him for that, and his bravery trying to take Dooku himself. Skywalker just rushed in and got his arm lopped off. What's heroic about that? But undoubtedly the riveting part was where Yoda faced Dooku, the Ataru style nearly defeating him too. But Tyranus cheated again, using the Force. Yoda was detained and saved Skywalker and Kenobi's lives while Dooku made off with top-secret plans for a moon-sized battlestation..._

_The Clone Wars stretched the Jedi thin, until their climax, where the Master Sith, Darth Sidious, revealed himself. He was hiding behind the façade of the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. All the Jedi who stood against him were destroyed save for two. One was Yoda, who escaped to Dagobah. The other was Skywalker, who was in turn seduced by the Dark Side. He became Sidious' new apprentice, granting him he name of Darth Vader._

_Vader's first mission was to eradicate the Jedi who would stand against Sidious, which he did extremely well in concert with the Republic's clone troopers left over from the Clone War. (Hence the name.) Virtually all the Jedi were executed, whether by Vader, Sidious or the Clones. The screams and cries haunt me to this day. But in all of the knowledge, they seem to have forgotten about me. Sometimes I wonder whether that is a blessing or not. _

_You see, when all of the cries through the Force began to call out, the receptacle began to break. It's been cracking ever since, turning slowly to dust. The thing that once kept us young, ageless yet contained in these forms was now breaking. We are all dying. We have about another few moths left, maybe more. In the rest of my time, I watched as Kenobi faced Vader of the volcanic world of Mustafar, Kenobi thrice amputating Vader, and allowing the need for his now trademark life-support suit. Kenobi slipped into hiding on Tatooine, on the other side of the galaxy, and Vader began to take control of the Empire which was once the Republic. But his two offspring, twins from his dead wife, Padmé now are in hiding as well. So now, I construct lightsabers for Skywalker's children and the Jedi they would in turn train, for they are our last hope to restore the Jedi and peace to the galaxy. _

_They will find my works here, but if there is to be a new Jedi Order and if the Empire will ever fall, I won't be around to see it. I will be dead, resting the way I have earned. It's not an honorable death, but it's the best that will ever come. The others cling to hope, that one of them will find someone to fall in love with. But I have abandoned that hope. It is too late for all of us. Don't bother pitying me. I'm already dead. _


	2. A Simple Girl

Chapter 1: A Simple Girl

As the Empire's grip tightened around star systems throughout the galaxy, the small, backwater planet of Markos-Delta failed to garner the notice of the Imperial Governors or the outnumbered and outgunned Rebel Alliance. The peaceful, friendly, pre-industrial civilization had begun to develop without Imperial interference. The particular village of Norath was a hive of kindness and routine, as people went about their own business. The machinery was somewhat primitive, relying on water and cogs. No one really wanted to change, and Markos-Delta remained merely another planetary name in the Galactic Empire Databank and a navigational entry in the Rebel Alliance's hyperspace computers.

Norath was a sleepy little town near the edge of a dark and deep forest. The best hunters had only probed and settle the proverbial tip of the iceberg. The bakers baked, the slaughterhouse had carved the meat brought by the hunters, the shopkeepers kept up with the demand of the population of barely over two hundred. Everyone always went about their routine, enjoying the monotony and stability.

Well, with three exceptions. The first is the old bookkeeper, Mr. Zachariah, who is usually a very lonely individual, for the people of Norath, save precious few have no interest in reading. He is an old man, who relies on his books for company. He will believe almost anything, which had led him to be the victim of several cruel practical jokes. However, there is one person he can rely on for company, and to spare him from several other jokes.

Exception Number One was an old man named Martise. He was well past his prime physically, but his mind was sharp as a tack with an almost child-like curiosity about the numerous mechanical feats he manufactured on a daily basis. Now was the time of year that he would be working his hardest to get his amazing new contraption to the fair that was held in the big city a few days away. There would usually be the clattering and occasional explosion from his basement, causing several odd looks from numerous sources. People regarded him as something of a mental case, belonging in the asylum not a days ride away, but it was his only living relative that stood between that and the life he lived now. Ironically, this relative was the same who is the somewhat guardian angel of Mr. Zachariah.

That person is the third mentioned exception, Martise's young daughter, named Belle. She was a young lady, regarded by many to be the most beautiful girl for miles around. Martise had always remarked that she looked amazingly like her mother, which was true. Her hair was a lovely dark shade of red that came down to just below the nape of her neck. Though most of the young women would have had their hair done so many different fancy ways, (The most popular was one that had their hair in two large, bun-like spirals just above each ear.) Though she was a petite girl, she did not go through so many dresses like all the others, but sticking to simple and plain fashions she made herself. Her eyes were a lovely, light mixture of green, gray and turquoise, nearly creating a new color. But most people, beautiful as they thought she was, regarded her with an air of uncertainness, for she was a peculiar girl. They gave her a wide berth in town, as she walked with her nose in a book. A _book!_ What woman in the right mind would _want_ to read?

However, the narrow visions of the townsfolk never stopped Belle from enjoying herself. For she read anything and everything, possibly because one thing she disliked the most was the monotony of the day-to-day routine. She would read to take her somewhere else, for her to escape…

Now was no exception. She sat in the hilly meadow to the north, sitting under an ancient tree, and engulfed in a book that had her by the throat and would not let go.

"'_Your father wanted you to have this, when you were old enough.'"_ she read. _" 'But your uncle wouldn't allow it. He was afraid you might follow old Obi-Wan on some "Damned fool idealistic crusade, like your father did.'_

"_Luke finished patching up his droid's arm, giving Threepio permission to power down for the moment and walked over as Ben removed a cylindrical, silver object. 'What is it?' The farmboy inquired._

" '_Your father's lightsaber.' Ben replied, mysteriously. 'This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as clumsy or random as blaster. An elegant weapon for a more… civilized time.' He was seated as Luke weighed the saber in his hand. _

"_The saber ignited into a half-meter column of blue energy. Luke jumped in the initial surprise of the weapon's nature, but it hummed and glowed mysteriously as it moved. A thought came to the young farmboy and he deactivated the saber, taking a seat beside Ben…no. His name was Obi-Wan, not crazy old Ben Kenobi. _

" '_For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic.' Obi-Wan continued. 'Before the dark times. Before the Empire.'_

" '_How did my father die?' He asked. _

"_Obi-Wan released a sigh. 'A young Jedi named Darth Vader, who was a pupil of mine until he turned to evil, helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights. Now the Jedi are all but extinct.' He said, in a tone devoid of the fatherly tone it had before, replaced by solemn seriousness and a multitude of painful memories behind it. 'He betrayed and murdered your father. Vader was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force.' _

" '_The Force?'" Luke asked, furrowing his brow._

Just as Belle was asking the exact same question, a drop of rain fell on her page. She marked her page and closed the cloth-bound book. She walked back into the village, envisioning what she had just read in her mind. This was why she loved this story so much. It appealed so much to her, on the scale of her imagination. Pity Mr. Zachariah wanted it back now.

The bookshop Mr. Zachariah kept was a run-down little place. The paint needed to be lathered on again, there were some repairs to be made, but it just contributed to Belle's fantastic imagination of the place.

Mr. Zachariah sat behind his desk, reading a much thicker book than Belle had ever seen. He looked up when he heard the door lose and a smile crept over his features. "Belle." he greeted. "How are you, my dear?"

"Oh, very well." Belle smiled back. "I've brought your book back."

"Oh, capital!" Mr. Zachariah grinned. "Just on time. There was a special reason why I wanted it back today."

"Oh?" Belle said. "What?"

"I wanted to give you these." Mr. Zachariah brought out another two books, one with a dark blue cover and the other with a dark green cover. Both were in the same style of that which Belle had just returned. He placed the two with the old one that she just brought back and gave them to her. "For you." He smiled.

"Oh!" Belle gasped. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure." Mr. Zachariah said. "The other two in the series, for my young friend."

"Well," Belle was flustered. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Just promise to keep visiting me." Mr. Zachariah said. He leaned in close and lowered his voice as if someone were listening. "And perhaps some of your sugar cookies?"

Belle smiled widely now, revealing two perfect rows of white teeth. "Thank you, so much." She kissed her friend on the cheek and promised to return tomorrow with the cookies.

Now, the rain had stopped after a light drizzle. After a brief flash of irritation, Belle decided it was for the best. Supper had to be cooked, for her father usually forgot to eat while he was inventing.

As she walked along the well beaten path out of town, a very large, muscular and undeniably handsome man walked along the path coming towards her. His rifle was slung over the back of his shoulder and he boasted loudly to his small friend beside him.

"…And three fully grown _boras_ before that! All in the same hour."

"Gee, Jussen!" His friend, Ruddy said beside him. "There's sure no one like you around! I…"

But Jussen had seen Belle walking along, her nose in her beloved book. "Shut up!" He quickly shoved Ruddy off the path, out of sight and into a particularly thorny bush. He puffed out his chest and slicked back his hair, making himself as attractive and seductive as possible…

…Only to have Belle walk right past him, ignoring him completely. He did an about turn and followed her. "Hello, Belle," He said, overly loud.

This got Belle's attention. She looked up, and merely said. "Hello, Jussen." And she promptly went back to her book.

One thing that must be known about Jussen Reed is that he is an extremely stubborn individual. He kept up to her and turned up his nose. "What's this rot you're reading now?"

"It's not rot!" Belle protested. "It's wonderful. It's a great adventure. Full of action, rebellion, romance, duty… but I'm sure you wouldn't understand such things."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jussen whined. "I have action and adventure every day! I am a romantic and my duty is to you." He slung his arm around Belle, and drew her close. She nearly lost her book in the process. "Think of it now. You and me, together forever in holy matrimony. I can give you anything your little heart desires. Try me."

Just as she was about to protest and say something along the lines of "You have noting I could ever want." She thought. "Well," Belle said carefully. "There is _one_ thing I would like from you."

"Anything, my muffin." Jussen said.

"I would like," Belle slipped out of his arm and walked away. "for you to go away and leave me in peace."

Before he could reply, Belle had vanished over a hill, leaving Jussen spluttering. Ruddy came out of his bush, pulling an unusually large thorn out of his backside.

"Oww…" He complained. "Y'know, I don't know why you're still wasting your time with her. There are plenty of other women out there…"

"Ruddy!" Jussen's voice was like a gunshot. "Am I not Jussen Reed? Dashingly handsome, strong, brave, daring, ridiculously successful hunter?"

"Well," Ruddy said. "Yes, but…"

"Well, Jussen Reed always gets what he wants! _ALWAYS! _Belle will be my wife, within the month if not the week! All she needs is some gentle prodding."

The rest of the walk was silent. Jussen had believed his own words so well, almost forgetting his true essence, with his concealed ultimate weapon on his back. No one here knew of who he really was, or whom his real duty was to…

…

Belle arrived back home shortly after her little run-in with Jussen. She immediately put her new treasures by her bed and started to cook. However, she was usually distracted, her mind up in her book, following the adventures of Luke Skywalker and Ben Kenobi. She looked out the window, dreaming as she looked into the sunset, longing for a change, an adventure…

End of Chapter.

Well, there be chapter one. Will update soon, and if there's anything you don't understand, that's in the Star Wars context, just ask. I am the second foremost authority on Star Wars in my school, so chances are I know what I'm talking about. Hopefully. Don't be shy to ask. Now, please review!


	3. A Wrong Turn

Chapter 2: A Wrong Turn

First off, thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I didn't think this would get such a positive response! In response to the review, left by SamoaPhoenix9, this story takes place just before _A New Hope._ I'm afraid I haven't read the New Jedi Order books, seeing as I am living in a small, backwater little town in the middle of Canada. Let's just say for now that Belle's reading the works of someone with quite an imagination. There's a reason for this particular story, (Not just that _ANH_ is my fav.) which will be explained later. ;) Cheers, and now on with the story!

Now, one thing that must be known about Belle's father Martise is that he is always busy. Even well past his prime, he still invented and tinkered with ever mechanical thing he could get his hands on. His inventions usually placed rather high in the fair that was always held in the big city that was held around this time of year, a fact Martise prided himself upon. Half the time while he was inventing, he simply forgot to eat, drink and go to the toilet. That was another reason why he loved Belle so much. She always was there to remind him of the important things in life.

Tonight was no different. When Belle called for supper, there was no reply. Just some loud crashing, maybe a curse that never went above "Kriff!" or "Blast it!", and in the worst case scenario, a muted explosion. It again fell to Belle to actually go down into the cellar and retrieve him, figuratively kicking and screaming. This time, however, he was weary and somewhat irritated.

"I just don't know how I'll be able to get that blasted thing to work." He sighed, rubbing the bald spot that had just begun to develop on the tip top of his head. "I'm not even sure if I will be able to get it ready in time."

"Oh, you will, Father." Belle smiled. "And you'll win first this year, I just know it."

Martise returned her smile. "You're a good girl, Belle." He said, wistfully. "You've got a kind heart and a good head. A girl like you deserves much more than a small, provincial life than this. If and when you get the chance, you'll be able to do anything you wish.'

"Well, right now," Belle said, seating Martise down at the table. "I would like you to eat. The next genius needs his energy."

Martise laughed as he started his soup. "Don't know what I'd do without you, love." He squeezed her hand and they began.

…

Sure enough, as Belle had foreseen, Martise got his contraption going. He left first thing in the morning, Belle waving until he was out of sight.

Martise whistled while he guided the _bora _that pulled is cart, with the invention on the back through the forest. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, whistling all the while, and stopping ever two hours to give the _bora _a rest.

Things went well all day, until the night started to close in, with unfriendly looking storm clouds threatening to block out the sun as it set. Martise was lost, there was no doubt about that. He consulted his map with the last bit of sunlight that was available for him to see the fine printing clearly.

"Must've taken a wrong turn," He murmured to himself. He nursed the _bora _into a slow trot, as he looked around. There was no mention of this trail on any of his map. He was in uncharted and possibly very dangerous territory.

A distant howl of a wild _korba_ beast sent a chill down his spine. _Korbas_ were the most dangerous predators in the forest, and one would not do well to trifle with one.

Speak of the devil, one leapt at the cart. It sailed right past Martise's head, the fur brushing against his cheek. The smell of its last unfortunate prey stank from its wretched maw, and there were sinister red streaks in the whiskers. Evidently, it now had a taste for blood.

And, as luck would have it, a whole pack of them now surrounded the small cart, circling it. A few snaps were heard from the pack, as they closed in. They were hungry, and though Martise was past his prime, he still had a few soft spots on him that a carnivore would find particularly scrumptious.

Common sense overrode Martise's growing fear, and he suddenly spurred the _bora_ hard. The cart was off like a shot, running over maybe two _korbas_ and possibly injuring four others. There was a collection of yelps and a couple of bumps underneath the cart. A crack of thunder sounded and the rain started to pound down. Martise squinted to see, but the rain fogged up and blocked the sight from his glasses. Just as he wiped them clean again with his sleeve, the saw too late the ancient tree in front of him. He swerved with the reins, too fast. The cart pitched over and Martise went flying. The _bora _got the worst of it, having flipped several times before the _korbas_ closed in and began to feast.

Martise got to his feet, and instantly thanked the _bora _for its service, and for sacrificing its life for him. The few seconds of distraction it bought him had to be enough.

After several seconds of running, Martise came to a large cast-iron gate. A blot of lightning illuminated the dark, creepy and foreboding castle behind it. Any sanctuary was better than none in his present situation. He wrenched open the gates and entered the castle grounds, after firmly wedging the gates shut with a large branch. A cold chill ran down his spine as he approached the large wooden doors. With a mighty heave, he managed to open one and slipped inside. Martise jumped as it slammed shut behind him, and he entered the main foyer.

The impression Martise got from the amount of neglect in the grounds was that the interior would be in equal or worse condition. It would seem that he was wrong, for the place was well-lit and well kept. The large grand staircase looked like it had been there since the dawn of time, but kept polished and maintained every day. The place was deliciously warm, almost hot as Martise looked skywards to the extravagant ceiling that housed a grand chandelier, which glittered like a thousand precious stones.

"H-hello…" Martise called. No reply came. "I-I don't mean to intrude, but I was lost in he woods. I need shelter for the night…" Still no reply to his query. "Is anyone here? I need your help."

"Well, why shouldn't we?" A voice hissed, as if someone were whispering in close proximity. "Ulic, you know cold better than anyone and…"

"Hush, Ruan!" Another voice hissed. "I also know the Master's fury better than anyone. You know Master Baromeer doesn't like to be disturbed."

"A Jedi does not get angry…" The first voice taunted.

"That's not the point!" The voice, apparently called Ulic said.

"Look, you remember Hoth, Ulic." Ruan reasoned. "You remember how you nearly froze. Why does your heart have to be as cold as this poor nerf-herder is?"

"Who's there?" Martise asked. "Where are you?"

No reply came again. Martise deduced he must be hearing things, but where from the depths of his imagination did the words "Ulic", "Ruan", "Hoth" and "Jedi" come from?

He shrugged it off and dismissed it. Then they came again.

"There." Ulic said. "Now stay still and be quiet. Maybe he'll go away."

"Yes, _Master."_ Ruan exaggerated.

"Mind you tongue, young Padawan." Ulic scolded.

Martise ignored this and entered a parlor on the second floor, where a roaring fire was now in full force. He decided to be seated and warm himself. It was quite enjoyable, sitting there and drying when the voices came again.

"Well, if you won't help him, I will." Ruan said and a soft clanking was heard coming into the room. Martise did his best to hide himself in the chair's massive size and slowly reached for a nearby fire poker.

The clanking stopped on the nearby table. Martise raised the poker and posed to strike…

"Whoa!" Ruan held up his hand to shield himself… if they could be classified as hands. "It's all right! Put your weapon away! I mean you no harm…"

Martise was caught off guard by the speech of this object, but did so promptly and apologized.

"No harm done." Ruan said. "I'm Ruan Marrian. I'd be glad to be of service to you."

"I'm Martise… You're a…"

"A candlestick." Ruan finished for him and inspected his arms, which had grown into the prongs for two candles. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to. However, is there anything we can get you?"

"We?" Martise repeated.

"Yes," Ruan smiled. "Myself and…" He looked around for a moment and looked to the doorway. "Oh, come on Ulic. Say hello. Or are you wound up too tight?"

Martise looked to the doorway to see a clack, obviously looking upset and nodded stiffly. "If you practiced your saber techniques as much as you did with your wit, young Padawan, you would have rivaled Darth Sidious as a swordsman."

"I thought I already did." Ruan pouted.

Ulic gave a hollow laugh. "Only in your mind, my _very_ young apprentice."

"But onto the matter," Ruan said. "Anything you require? Anything at all?"

"Well," Martise said. "Perhaps a cup of tea…"

"As you wish." Ruan said. "Ulic, go fetch Tara."

"Fine." Ulic seethed through clenched teeth. He turned on what served as a heel and marched off in a dignified manner that drew a chuckle from Martise.

"Don't mind him." Ruan said. "He used to live out beyond a sea of dunes. Made him kind of a strange old hermit. Course, that's happened to all of us. We've not seen another living soul besides ourselves for almost thirty years now."

Martise's eyes widened. Thirty years was an awful long time to be alone. And not only than, but Ruan didn't sound a day over seventeen. Something was definitely wrong here…

However, he did not have time to analyze this, for a teapot now entered, followed by a small up. They introduced themselves as Tara and her son Dannik. Soon, Martise fell into conversation with all, while he sipped the warm tea.

The warm feeling hardly lasted, for not long after he was on his second cup and nearly dry, a large figure came in. It was tall, commanding and held a lantern. "What is all this!" He bellowed in a commanding voice.

Everyone ran and hid, all except for Ruan. He shook and tried to explain. "Master Baromeer, I…"

"Silence!" The voice snapped, and Ruan cowered. "What do _you_ want?"

"Please…" Martise said. "Let's talk about this…"

"I have no interest in conversation." The figure snarled. "Answer my question. NOW!"

"I… I was lost in the woods and I need a place to stay the night." Martise tried to explain. "I'll not take up much room, and I only need warmth and shelter from the rain…"

"Liar!" The figure barked. His otherwise handsome features not put off by his off-blue eyes, were contorted with fury. "You've come to see the blind Sith Lord for yourself, haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?"

"No!" Martise countered. "I don't even know what a Sith Lord is! Please, I need a place to…"

"Stay the night?" The Sith Lord barked. "I'll GIVE you a placed to stay the night."

He grabbed Martise by his collar and dragged him from the room.

"Oh, you just _had_ to, didn't you?" Ulic said, mockingly after the two left. "Invite him in, warm yourself by the fire, and sit in the _good chair_, didn't you? Have I taught you nothing, Ruan? Have you not heard my words of the master's anger? Why did you not offer him a roll in the hay with Calis while you were at it?"

"You leave her out of this!" Ruan bellowed and went for Ulic's throat.

"Stop this, both of you!" Tara shouted and doused them both with steaming hot water. "This bickering is pointless. Ruan did what he thought best. You have to allow him to think for himself and make decisions on what he thinks is best, not what you think is best, Ulic. In his position, I'm sure you would have done the same. Now, we need to stop fighting and think of a way to get that poor man out from wherever Master Baromeer has taken him."

"But he's not really a master, Mommy." Dannik piped up. "He's only a Jedi Knight, not a Master."

"He's the closest thing we have to a competent master," Tara said. "NO offense, Ulic, but you can barely even hold your lightsaber anymore."

Ulic gave an unusually humble nod. "Ever since the receptacle's been breaking down, we've been becoming more like our objects. When it's finally turned to dust, we become those objects, as inanimate as the floor beneath us. We effectively die then."

"My son…" Tara protested.

"He has the right to know what's going to happen to him." Ulic said. "There's no avoiding the facts."

"There's always hope, Ulic." Tara said. "Love can and will find us."

"What about you and Calis, Ruan?" Dannik asked. "Shouldn't that be enough?"

Ruan blinked. "Who told you about me and Calis?"

"Mara, the wardrobe." Dannik said. "She tells me lotsa neat stuff."

"Well, I'll have to have a word with Mara then." Ruan did his best to suppress a laugh. Calis, the feather duster and he had always had a flirtation of sorts, but it was only now that it really began to develop. "But, to answer your question, no. If both parties are under the same Force bond, as we are, it doesn't work."

"Oh." Dannik's little head dipped.

"I think it's time you went to bed, little one." Tara said. "Come on."

"OK." Dannik followed his mother obediently and close the door behind him.

…

Martise was fortunate enough he got control of his feet before the stair, for the Sith Lord would probably have dragged him down otherwise, more than likely breaking a few bones.

He found himself dragged into a dark cellar, below ground level. It was damp, cold and foreboding; a dungeon in every aspect of the word. The Sith Lord kicked open a cell door and tossed Martise inside. He skidded for a little bit, before coming to a halt as he collided with the far wall.

"Enjoy your stay." The Sith Lord snarled and slammed the door. The click of the lock pins moving resounded throughout the dank establishment, replaced eventually by the steady drip of the defective plumbing.

Martise hauled himself up onto the cot beside him and huddled in the corner. He pulled his clothing tight against him, squeezing every ounce of warmth he could out of them. Belle, bless her, had insulated these, but in this damp atmosphere, a lot of good it did. Martise did his best to try and ignore the fact that his breath was freezing upon the exit of his mouth, and tried to formulate an escape plan. After all, the people who survived through tough times were the ones who thought thing through, and who stayed in control. They survived, and Martise was dead set on living. He ignored the dark humor of the contradiction and set about thinking.

End of Chapter

Whew…I'm on a roll! I do want to update on May long weekend, for it's an anniversary, (A full year since I've been into Star Wars. The Force has been with me for almost a year. :)) so I want to update on all my Star Wars fics. At this rate, I'll definitely succeed. Now, its your turn. I look forward to reading what you guys think. Thanks for being so kind so far. Ciao!


	4. A Daring Rescue

Chapter 3: A Daring Rescue

Who! Thanks a bundle for the positive response! I've always been a bit modest, but this just makes me so happy! Here's another chapter for you wonderful people! And to SamoaPhoenix9, I didn't think you came off strongly about the timeframe. (I'm a huge detail freak myself, and being the second foremost authority on Star Wars in my school, I guess I would kinda know what I'm talking about. ;) )

"_The cantina in Mos Eisley was dark and dirty, with possibly a hundred different alien species inside. Possibly just as many outlaws and bounty hunters as well. It was Ben who described it a 'wretched hive of scum and villainy.' It was a correct analogy and Ben was leading Luke right into the thick of it. He now sat across from an eight-foot tall Wookie, when a smug-looking, older pilot sat down. He wore his hair long, but to such a degree that it became bulky. There was a thin scar across his chin, below the thin lips that were locked in a permanent sneer. There was a scoped DL-44 heavy pistol at his hip, a black vest across the tan shirt and blue pilot pants with black boots._

_" 'Han Solo.' He introduced himself, taking a seat beside the Wookie. 'I'm captain of the _Millennium Falcon. _Chewie here tells me you're lookin' for passage to the Alderaan system.'_

_" 'Yes,' Ben said. 'If it's a fast ship.'_

_" 'Fast ship?' Solo repeated. His look of offense turned to bragging as he leaned in closer. 'You never heard of the _Millennium Falcon_?'_

_"Ben merely blinked. 'Should I have?' He asked innocently._

_" 'It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs.' Solo said, as if it couldn't be more obvious than if he said a Gundark were pulling Luke's ears off. 'I've outrun Imperial starships. Not the local bulk cruisers mind you. I'm talkin' 'bout the bid Corellian ships now. She's fast enough for ya, old man. What's the cargo?'_

_" 'Only passengers.' Ben said. 'Myself, the boy, two droids, and no questions asked.'_

_"Solo gave a toothy grin, enjoying the idea. 'What is it, some kinda local trouble?'_

_" 'Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements.' Ben said simply._

_"Solo leaned back in his seat. 'Yeah, well that's the real trick, isn't it? And it's gonna cost ya somethin' extra. Ten thousand. All in advance.'_

_"Luke was appalled and he wasn't afraid to show it. 'Ten thousand?' His words attracted a small number of looks from nearby tables. 'We could almost buy our own ship for that!'_

_" 'But who's gonna fly it, kid?" Solo sneered. 'You?'_

_" 'You bet I could!' Luke said. 'I'm not such a bad pilot myself. We don't have to stay here and listen…'_

_"Luke stood to go, but Ben put a reassuring hand on his forearm, seating the young farmboy. 'We can pay you two thousand now,' Ban said. 'Plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan.'_

_"Solo's attitude did a complete turnaround. 'Seventeen, huh?' At Ben's nod, he gave a lopsided grin. 'OK, you guys got yourselves a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Docking bay 94.'_

_"Ben repeated the number and Solo looked over Luke's shoulder. 'Looks like someone's beginning to take an interest in your handiwork, old man.'_

_"Ben and Luke turned to see three Imperial shock troopers, carrying T-21 heavy rifles. They sat up and left, leaving only Han and Chewbacca._

_"One the troopers had moved off, Han slapped the table. 'Seventeen thousand!' He whooped triumphantly. 'Those guys must really be desperate. This could really save my neck. Get back to the ship, get her ready.'_

_"As both of them went their separate ways, a green-skinned Rodian came out of a seat and leveled a blaster at Han's chest. Going somewhere, Solo? He asked in Huttese._

_" 'Yes, Greedo.' Han said, backing into a booth. He propped his left foot up on the table and his left foot began to play with the shipping plaster on the wall behind his head. The Rodian took a seat across from him, blaster leveled. 'As a matter of fact, I was just going to see your boss. Tell Jabba that I've got the money.'_

_" It's too late for that. Greedo said. You should have paid him when you had the chance. Jabba's put such a price on your head, every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you. He gave a mirthless laugh. I'm lucky I found you first. _

_" 'Yeah, but this time, I've got the money.' Han reasoned._

_" If you give it to me, I might forget I found you. Greedo offered._

_" 'I don't have it with me,' Han said, his right hand slipping down to his blaster. The pin of the holster came off, and Hang ripped the handle. 'Tell Jabba…'_

_" Jabba's though with you. Greedo snapped. He has no time for smugglers who drop their shipment at the first sign o fan Imperial starship. _

_" 'Even I get boarded sometimes.' Han said, the DL-44 coming out, concealed under the table. Its white muzzle pointed in an angle at Greedo's chest. 'You think I had a choice?'_

_"After a pause, Greedo tried again. You can tell that to Jabba. He may only take your ship. _

_"The hand playing with the plaster dropped. 'Over my dead body,' Han Solo sneered._

_" That's the idea. Greedo said. I've been looking forward to this for a long time. _

_" 'Yeah, I'll bet you have.' Han said, pulling the trigger._

_"Greedo's flesh erupted into smoke and a hole was blown clean through his chest. His dead hand spasmed on the blaster, the bolt misfiring and blowing a hole in the ancient plaster, inches from Han's head. Solo stood, holstered the DL-44, and dug out a credit chip. He flipped it at the bartender and quipped 'Sorry 'bout the mess,' before he left._

_"He made his way to his ship, to find that his suspicions were correct. The immense, slug-like Jabba the Hutt stood outside his ship, with a few of his bounty hunter staff._

_" Solo! He called in his native tongue. Come out of there, Solo! Solo! _

_" 'Right here, Jabba.' Han said, most of the men turning at breakneck speed. "Bin waitin' for ya.'_

_" Have you now Jabba said, and let out a chuckle._

_" 'You didn't think I was gonna run, did ya?' Han sneered as he walked towards Jabba. Now, another hunter stood beside the Hutt. He wore extremely weathered green Mandalorian armor, and clutched a sawed-off EE-3 blaster carbine. His hand went to the safety lever, as if he were going to pull it off. _

_" Han, my boy, Jabba said. You disappoint me. Why haven't you paid me, and why did you fry poor Greedo? _

_" 'Look Jabba,' Han said. 'Next time you wanna come talk to me, come see me yourself. Don't send one of these twerps.' (Boba Fett's hands tightened around his EE-3.)_

_" Han, Jabba said, starting to walk with the smuggler. Well, Han walked. Jabba moved like the slug-like creature he was. I can't make exceptions. What if everyone who smuggles for me dropped their shipments at the first sign of an Imperial starship? It's not good business. _

_" 'Look, Jabba.' Han said. 'Even I get boarded sometimes.' He walked around Jabba, purposely stepping on his large tail. Jabba squealed with discomfort. 'You think I had a choice? But I got a nice easy shipment now. I'll pay you back, plus a little extra; I just need a little more time.'_

_" Han, my boy, Jabba said. You're the best. So, for an extra twenty percent…_

_" 'Fifteen, Jabba.' Han said. 'Don't push it.'_

_" OK, Fifteen. Jabba said. But if you fail me again, I'll put a price on your head so big; you won't be able to go near a civilized system. _

_" 'Jabba,' Han said before he boarded the _Falcon_. 'You're a wonderful human being.'_

"Jabba and his hunters moved off, Boba Fett sulking at the missed opportunity to use his EE-3."

Belle rubbed her eyes and closed the book. She had gotten lost in her little area near a tree, but it was time she got home for midday. Mr. Zachariah had his cookies, and everything was well in the world. She repressed a giggle at Jussen, flexing his biceps for a group of young women. She slunk by him without being noticed, but one person did catch her eye. Ruddy was sitting down under a fairly large tree, picking at the grass. The one thing that struck Belle the most was the scarf he wore. This was extremely odd, for it looked disturbingly familiar…

"Hello, Ruddy." She greeted. "That's a nice scarf, where did you get it?"

"I found it," Ruddy grinned boyish and stupidly. "Somewhere in the woods." He took it off and gave it to Belle.

"I know this scarf!" Belle suddenly exclaimed. "It's my father's! I know, I made it!"

"Oh, well." Ruddy said. "Finders keepers!" He snatched it back and stuck his tongue out, causing Belle to roll her eyes.

"Ruddy, I'm not worried about the scarf itself." Belle said. "But when he's traveling, my father never takes this off! Where in the woods did you find this?"

"On some really old road." Ruddy said. "I don't think it's been used for years. The scarf was near a crashed cart."

"Ruddy, you have to take me there." Belle said, urgently. "My father's in danger if he doesn't have this."

"Awwww…" Ruddy whined. "I _hate _the woods! It's all dark and spooky and weird and creepy and wet and cold and… You go."

He ran off as fast as his short legs could possibly take his fat little body would take him.

Belle sighed and rushed home. She packed her day bag with a blanket and all the food she could, next to her three books. She boarded her own _bora_ and set off out into the woods at full speed.

It took the better part of what remained of the day to reach the crossroads, where the beaten path gave way to a dark, unkempt and unused path. However, there were wheel marks there that, Belle found upon inspection, were fairly fresh. This had to be the trail Belle sought or her name was Imperial Grand Admiral Motti.

As the sky grew dark, Belle found the remains of a mangled cart. She dismounted her _bora_ and went to inspect.

The call of a distant wild animal spooked the _bora,_ which turned and ran for home. Belle called after it, but to no avail. She drew her traveler's cloak around her and inspected the cart. The cart's wheels had sustained heavy damage, as had her father's machine. The _bora _pulling the contraption got the worst of it, seeing as all that remained were gory bones and matted fur. But, there was no sign of her father. She searched the woods surrounding, cling his name until the sun had gone down. It was now, just as the sun dipped down beyond the horizon, that she came to a dark iron gate, with a foreboding castle on the other side.

Repressing a chill, Belle pried the piece of wood that served as a lock out and stepped inside the grounds. The iron gate creaked from disuse, and Belle replaced the wood lock, after hearing the distant howl of a _korba._

The grounds were choked with vegetation, the hedges unkempt and large. The fountains were clogged with overgrowth and the statues tat surrounded the place seemed to reflect the appalling state of the place, as they were contorted in terror and pain. In the back of her mind, Belle could almost hear Han Solo saying something along the lines of "Charming place…"

As Belle reached the large wooden door, she suddenly felt cold, small, and very scared. But her father was still out here. If he were alive, this was where he'd have to be.

She opened the door, expecting the insides to be cold, dark and drafty…

Only to be impressed with the warmth and excellent housekeeping someone maintained on this place. Evidently someone lived here.

"Father?" Belle called. "Father? Where are you? Are you here?"

It was now in her peripheral vision that she caught sight of a door ajar, almost as if it had been slammed and forgotten about. Any lead was better than nothing, and Belle went to investigate.

The stairway down was dark, and circular. The light projected from the foyer only went so far, and that wasn't much. Belle took a candlestick nearby on a desktop and proceeded into the darkness, voicing her concern to no one in particular.

"I have a bad feeling about this…"

End of Chapter.

Whew! That was a good chapter. I think anyway. Huge segment of _A New Hope_ I know, but it only comes with being both a Harrison Ford look-alike and extreme Han Solo fan. Hope you guys liked it, for it'll be the last for at least a couple of chapters. And just for the record _HAN SHOT FIRST!_ You have proof here! Sorry, it's just been an ongoing debate in several circles. Anyway, hanks for reading and I doth commandeth thee to revieweth! Please-eth?


	5. Prisoner Exchange

Chapter 4: Prisoner Exchange

OK, guys. Sorry about the wait and the HUGE flashback last chapter, but the flashbacks will cease for the time being. That being said, on with the chapter!

The entire place was pitch back. The stairs seemed to go on forever, eternally spiraling downward at a dizzying pace. Belle's footfalls resounded throughout the desolate underground, answered by nothing. She did her best to keep her fear at bay, but with limited success, as the hand holding the candlestick trembled ever so slightly.

What was down here? What in blazes was she doing? Was there to be the prospect of her father, alive and well, or was it some sort of trap, cleverly laid to lure unsuspecting innocents such as herself?

As she entered a large cellar, another flight of stairs revealed themselves to her, on the other side of the room. As Belle carefully approached them, she heard a dull clunk behind her, as if someone had dropped something on the stone floor. She turned to see a small clock, face down on the floor.

"Ulic, are you all right?" A voice asked.

"Hush, young fool!" Another said, this time older and somewhat more irritable. "We'll be discovered for sure!"

"Who's there?" Belle said. "Show yourself please."

"Ah, kriff it." The first voice said. "Might as well."

"No!" The second hissed. "I forbid you!"

But it was all too late. The candlestick in Belle's hand shifted on its own accord, turning over to face Belle. "Hello." It greeted warmly.

Belle screamed aloud and dropped the candlestick in surprise. Not after a moment, it righted itself up and brushed itself off.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Belle knelt down to scoop it up. "I just… I just didn't…"

"Think you would be greeted by a candlestick." It smiled at her. "Don't worry yourself, I've had worse. Can't think of it right now, but I digress. My name is Ruan Marrian. That's Ulic, the clock."

Ulic gave a curt nod, the scowl on his face depicting his displeasure at Belle's company.

"What is your name?" Ruan asked.

"Belle. I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude, but I'm looking for my father."

Ruan blinked. "Shortish man, bald spot, glasses, permanently lost look?" He asked.

"That's an interesting way of putting it." Belle said. "Yes, that's him. Is he here?" 

The next response was a combination of Ruan's charming "Yes," and Ulic's quick and knife-like "No. Go away."

"Ulic," Ruan scolded. "You're father's here. He's being held downstairs. But for Force sakes, please be quiet. It wouldn't do to disturb the master, your father already made that mistake."

Belle nodded and Ruan pointed towards the door. The three walked down another infinite flight of stairs, to reveal a dark and dismal dungeon. There was but one cell door open. Belle peered in through the bars, the light projected from Ruan's hands revealing the dark outline of a man, curled up on a cot.

"Father?" Belle asked softly. "Is that you?"

The figure stirred and asked nervously "Belle? Is that you?"

"Yes, father, it's me." Belle's heart soared as he came trembling to the door. He was pale and shivering, obviously cold. Not only cold, but underfed. This was bad.

"Don't worry, father." Belle promised, squeezing his hand. "I'll get you out of here."

"There's no time!" Martise said, urgently. "You have to leave, while you still can! Go, child, before the Sith Lord finds you!"

"Not without you," Belle said.

"You'll have to…" Martise started. "Wait, behind you!"

Before Belle could react, four large and very hairy arms grabbed her and held her tight from behind. She screamed and began to fight, but an accented voice spoke to her.

"Easy, sweetheart." It said. "Don't struggle and you'll be fine."

As he spoke, a light began to filter down the stairs, footsteps following.

"I have a very bad feeling about this." Ruan said as the figure came into view.

It was a rather tall, and somewhat handsome man, carrying a lantern in his right hand. But any good looks she may have thought he had vanished with his expression. It was a contorted, almost angry look, and it was the look in his blank eyes that gave Belle the shivers. He wore old-looking robes, colored in black and a thick leather belt held numerous item pouches and a foot-long silver cylinder hung from the belt.

"Well, well, well." He sneered. "I would seem that the blind Sith Lord has become something of a tourist attraction, has he?"

"My father is sick." Belle said after the slightest of pauses. "Please, let me take him home."

The man snorted. "If he hadn't come snooping around in the first place, he wouldn't be in this situation."

"I was lost!" Martise protested. "I…"

"Silence!" The man barked and now spoke to the spider. "Take her back to the village."

"NO!" Belle protested. "Please, I'll do anything!"

"There's nothing you _can_ do." The man said, with an almost melancholy tone. He turned on his heel and started for the stairs.

A thought flashed across Belle's mind. What would her favorite, Luke Skywalker do in a situation such as this? He'd have wise old Ben to guide him, of course. Then what course of action would Ben suggest? _You must do what you feel is right, of course._

It clicked, only now. Belle was stronger, more able than her father in these circumstances. It would onbly be logical if she….

"Wait!" She called. "Take me instead."

The Sith stopped in mid-step. He turned to look at her.

"If you promise to let my father go, I'll take his place as your prisoner." Belle said, bowing her head.

"If you do, you realize you will never be allowed to leave." The Sith said, unusually calm and civil.

"I do." Belle said.

"Done." The word was direct and succinct. The Sith nodded to the spider, who released Belle and took Martise into his multi-legged grasp.

"Take him to the village." The Sith ordered. "And keep it quiet."

"As you wish." The spider replied and stalked off without another word.

"Wait!" Belle called, but to no avail. The spider had long since gone. She broke out into a strangled sob. "You never even let me say goodbye…" She whispered, feeling warmth and moistness coming to her eyes.

After the briefest of pauses that seemed to eclipse eternity, the Sith spoke, subdued and almost guilty. "I'll… show you to your room."

"But I thought…" Belle began.

"Unless you had your heart set on staying in this wretched place." The Sith said, waving the lantern about.

Belle followed him, slowly. As they trekked up the stairs, not a word was spoken until the second floor had been reached.

It was the Sith whom had made a tab at conversation. "You… are free in the castle, you may go wherever you wish in the interior and grounds, save for the West Wing."

Belle cocked her head. "Why?"

"It's forbidden!" The Sith snapped, saying the two words in record time.

Belle recoiled from his harshness and said no more until they reached a large bedroom. The Sith bade her inside and waited her to move into the middle of the room before saying something else.

"You will join me for dinner." He mumbled and the shouted "That isn't a request!"

He shut the door and after Belle heard his footfalls fade from her earshot, she collapsed into a heap, sobbing. The room was a lovely place, but it was still a prison nonetheless. Her own thoughts had come back to bite her. She always wanted a change, an adventure, but the price this time had been far too high. For an uncertain amount of time by her internal chronometer, Belle lay, weeping.

…

Marcus Baromeer stormed up to the haunt he called living quarters. He slammed the door behind him and cast off the black cloak he wore. It fell immaculately on a nearby chair. Two intruders. TWO blasted intruders. What did they want from him? What? What more did the galaxy want to take away from him?

The other side of him whispered of the girl. The calm, passive and compassionate Jedi side of him whispered in his brain _The girl. The chance of breaking the bond. The possibly last chance of casting off this shackle and you treat her like Bantha fodder!_

_She was here to laugh, to say for herself she had seen a Sith!_ The other side, the darker, hateful and hard side he would have called Sith countered. Marcus held his head and collapsed into a nearby sati. Every day, he lived with this. A figurative Jedi and a figurative Sith, in his mind, fighting for control of him. And in the passing of time, the Sith was winning, thought the Jedi had not been one to give up.

Marcus reached for a small mirror, tuned to the Force. It probably showed things visually, but Marcus wouldn't have known. He was, after all as the saying went, blind as a Y-Wing. It was a window through the Force, and now, it obeyed his command.

"Show me the girl." He murmured.

He couldn't see, but he could ear the soft sobs. He could feel her pain, her anguish.

_That was me._ The Jedi in him said. _I did that…_

The Sith dragon within him, thankfully, didn't stir, leaving Marcus with a terrible feeling of grief. Would it have been so much to show a little compassion, for old times' sake?

His grief now turned to frustration, bordering on anger. He took his lightsaber, activating it and sliced through several wooden posts he had procured from the forest for just this purpose: to relieve him of these hateful feelings. When all had been reduced to scrap bits, Marcus collected them and fed them to the fire. He hung his head and sat, faced again with his greatest enemy and persecutor: himself.

End of chapter.

Whew! Sorry that took so long, mates! Been busy with school, as it's winding down now. And don't expect another chapter till next weekend. That's the next time I'll get the chance. Thanks for being so patient. Sayonara for now and don't forget to review!


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